ENT13 Kahla of Sar'Fenn
by A Rhea King
Summary: Enterprise discovers a sole survivor aboard a destroyed ship. His appearance is something myths are made of. It causes an uproar among the crew and forces Archer to face past demons he thought he'd long since buried.
1. Chapter 1

KAHLA OF SAR'FENN

By A. Rhea King

**CHAPTER 1**

Archer was crossing the bridge to go to lunch when Hoshi stated, "I'm picking up a distress signal, Captain."

Archer froze mid-step. His stomach growled, angry with him for skipping breakfast and complaining that a handful of potato chips stolen from Trip were not enough to satisfy it.

'_Damnit_!' Archer walked around to stand before his chair.

"T'Pol, can you detect the ship?"

T'Pol pulled up her viewer. "It is nine hundred kilometers, starboard." She sent the coordinates to helm and Travis adjusted their course.

"Respond, Hoshi."

"This language... Sounds..." Hoshi cocked her head.

"Sounds what?"

"Like singing."

"Are you sure it's a distress signal?"

"Yes. The translator has been decoding it since we picked it up. They're asking for help from any ship. Heavy damage."

The damaged ship quickly came into view, floating in a field of debris. T'Pol turned back to her viewer.

"It doesn't look like it's taken on that much damage. Why is there so much debris?" Archer turned to T'Pol.

"I do not know, Captain. It looks like there are two warp signatures, but I will have to analyze it before I am certain."

"Check for ejected escape pods."

T'Pol turned to Archer. "I am detecting hundreds, but they have been shot. None of them have living bio-signs. I am, however, detecting two bio-signs along the port hull of the ship."

"Atmosphere?"

"Oxygen-nitrogen, but systems are failing. Environmental controls could go offline at any moment."

"Can we transport them out?"

"No. They are in or near one of the escape pods. The hull of the pod is an unknown metal composition. By the time the transporter calibrated to compensate, environmental controls _will_ have gone off line.

"Can a shuttle pod get near the ship?"

"Yes. There are several undamaged airlocks in the vicinity of the bio-signs."

Archer tapped the companel on his chair arm. "Archer to Trip."

"_Go ahead_."

"We're responding to a distress signal and there are two bio-signs detected. I need--"

"One of the bio-signs has expired," T'Pol informed him.

Archer shook his head. If they'd only arrived a few minutes earlier. "Correction, one biological needs rescuing. I'll have Travis to meet you at shuttle pod one."

Travis left and another crewman took helm.

"_On my way_," Trip said.

Archer sat down on the edge of his chair to wait. He put his hand on his stomach when it loudly growled at him, and ignored the glances of his crew.

#

Travis maneuvered the shuttle pod up to the airlock above them until he heard the hollow click of the locks connecting. He turned in his chair. Trip had put on an EV suit on the way over and was fastening his earpiece into his ear at the door. He twisted his helmet on and picked up a case from the bench.

"T'Pol, what's the status on the atmosphere?" Trip asked over the COM.

"Environmental controls are operating at eighty-five percent," T'Pol responded.

"Any idea for how long before it goes off line?"

"No, but there have been several hull breeches since you left. I'd advise you to hurry."

"What about the warp core?"

"It remains stable."

Trip climbed into the airlock. "Which way once I get out of here?"

"You'll enter a long hall right outside the airlock. Follow it to a hatch at the end."

Trip tapped the controls to open the alien hatch and was greeted by a long, dark hall. Lights flickered around him, making it hard to see anything. He pulled a flashlight out of his case and clicked it on, seeing another hatch at the far end of the hall. Trip started down it, keeping an eye open for danger.

He heard T'Pol tell Archer, "I've isolated the second warp signature. It is Orion."

"They must have done something pretty bad to piss off the Orions," Trip commented.

"We are less than three hundred kilometers from their space," T'Pol pointed out, "and Orions are _very_ territorial. They may return because of our presence."

"You know, T'Pol, it's spooky enough in here without _that_ on my mind."

"I was simply stating a fact."

"Next time, simply state a lie."

He heard Archer and Travis laugh.

"We haven't detected any ships. You're fine, Trip," Archer assured him.

"I'll believe that when I'm back on Enterprise."

Trip reached the end of the hall and tapped the hatch controls. Nothing happened.

"Is there any power where I'm at?"

"Not in all circuits, Commander," T'Pol answered.

Trip sat his case down and went to work on the controls. He rewired them and the door slid open, welcoming him into a pitch-black hall.

"Which way, T'Pol?"

"Right."

Trip saw a body next to the door and stepped over it. He stepped down in liquid, skidded, and lost his footing. He landed hard on the door jam, jarring his hip. Throwing his hand out to break his fall, he dropped his flashlight. His hand sank into the stomach of a corpse and he landed on the legs of another.

"AW! GROSS!" Trip scrambled away from the bodies to a space on the floor. He felt several other bodies around him and suspected the hall was full of them.

"Are you okay?" Archer asked.

Angry with himself he growled, "I'm fine."

His flashlight was rolling back and forth where it had landed. He reached back to pick it up as the beam swung across the face of a corpse and he froze.

#

Trip's silence concerned Archer. "Trip, are you sure you're alright?"

He didn't reply.

"Trip?"

Trip still didn't respond. Archer rose from his chair.

"Trip, respond."

"His vitals are showing an increase in heart rate and respiration," T'Pol reported. "Something has frightened him."

Trip started stuttering, "Their... Their..."

Archer looked at the bridge crew. "What's wrong, Trip? Do you need Travis to assist you?"

"I gotta... I can't... I don't know. This is..."

"Trip, do you need assistance?"

Trip didn't reply.

T'Pol looked up at Archer. "He's rerouting power to the lights for that hall."

#

Trip worked frantically to get the lights on. His hands shook so bad that he could hardly hold the thin wires and tools. The lights suddenly came on and he spun around. He broke out in a cold sweat, gasping in hard, shaky breaths.

Dead aliens filled the hall, most of them killed by phasers. Their skin was the color of burnished brass. Their once brilliantly colored eyes had clouded over. Most of them had long flaxen hair that flowed loose, but a few females had short-cropped hair. They were dressed in neat, pressed and fitted silk uniforms colored red, yellow, royal blue, and purple. One nearby wore a white robe with gold trim over his uniform. Around wounds sustained from shrapnel, sapphire blood had pooled, turning dark blue as it congealed. Down their backs they had three sets of wings: one set attached to their shoulders, another to the middle of their back and a third between their hips.

The lights began to fade as Trip sank to his knees next to one. He laid a gloved hand on one. Tears welled up and blurred the heavenly, lifeless face.

Based on a faith that he had believed since he was born, Trip assumed he was standing in the midst of slaughtered angels, and it was the most soul wrenching sight he'd ever seen. He was so distraught by it that he didn't hear himself cry out in horror.

#

Archer had never heard Trip, or anyone else, make that sound, but somehow he knew what it meant. Whatever Trip was seeing had to be horrific. Considering what Trip had seen and the many atrocities he'd lived through, Archer's imagination wasn't able to conjure up anything worse.

"Vitals, T'Pol?"

"They're getting worse."

"Travis, get him out of there," Archer ordered.

"No," Trip whispered. Louder he repeated, "No. I have to get the survivor. Where is it?"

"Trip, you're not all right. We have--"

"WHERE IS THE DAMN SURVIVOR!?"

The bridge was silent, surprised by the outburst. Trip cleared his throat.

Quietly he repeated, "Where is it, T'Pol?"

"Go right." After several minutes she instructed, "Turn left into the next hall on your left." T'Pol watched him go through the hall, a lone red dot on her screen. He came around a bend and another red dot appeared. When the dots merged she told him, "You're opposite of the escape pod, Commander."

"I see it. Stand by."

"Trip, do you need assistance?" Mayweather asked.

"No." Trip's reply was short, curt and angry.

Archer began, "You might be able to help the survivor faster if--"

"Stand by!" Trip snapped.

Archer bit his tongue to keep from snapping back.

"Standing by," Archer said.

It was twenty minutes before Trip asked, "I'm releasing the escape pod. Are you ready to grapple this, Emily?"

Ensign Emily Riggs was manning helm and asked him, "Which way is it going?"

"Down."

"Let me get closer."

"Are you going to be able to get it, Emily?"

"I'm pretty sure."

"Are you sure or not?" Trip snapped.

"She's sure," Archer said before Emily replied.

"Don't miss it. I won't forgive you if you do."

Emily glanced at Archer. She moved _Enterprise_ closer, maneuvering around the debris.

"I'm ready," she told Trip.

"Releasing the pod."

The escape pod jettisoned from the ship. Emily moved quick, sending both grapple lines out. One missed, but the second grabbed onto an end of the escape pod. She slowly took up the slack.

"Loading bay two," Archer ordered. "Hoshi, tell Phlox to get to the loading bay. Trip, come back."

Archer stormed to the lift. "You have the bridge, T'Pol."


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

The light indicating the shuttle bay was pressurized had barely turned green when Archer stormed in. He walked up to the side hatch of the shuttle pod and waited, but it didn't open. He tapped the controls and pulled it open. Archer stormed in, ready to start yelling, but his rage faded at what he found inside. Mayweather sat in the pilot's chair, staring at the female corpse on the floor. Trip was crying over it, staring at the alien's face.

"Were they all like her?" Archer asked.

Trip nodded. "She was holding onto the escape pod latch. I think whoever was inside was close to her," he whispered.

The corpse looked like she was in her late teens. Her young face was perfect and beautiful. Archer crouched down, hesitantly laying his hand on one wing. It was firm like a bird's wing with feathers soft as velvet. Archer picked up her hand, expecting it to be stiff but it was still fluid. He guessed she was the bio-sign that died just as he was dispatching Trip.

"The ship was full of them," Trip said, getting to his feet.

Archer looked up at Trip. Trip's fists were clenched; his anger repressed but dangerously close to the surface.

"What could they have done to make the Orions kill them all?"

Archer slowly stood, holding Trip's gaze as he stood.

"I know what you think these aliens are, Trip, but they're not. They're just aliens that look like angels. That's all. And as for what they did, we don't know. We don't have the whole story. Hoshi's trying to link to their computer still."

"The atmosphere on that pod was thin. The ang... The alien inside was against the door and barely conscious. Is Phlox looking at him?"

"Yes. Trip, we have to talk about your conduct a few min--"

"And how would you have acted if you were alone, faced with aliens that look like angels? Oh. Wait. You stopped believing God exists, therefore, angels can't exist either." Trip stormed out.

Archer looked back at the corpse, foreseeing a serious problem about to arise aboard his ship.

#

Captain Archer turned the corner into the hall leading to Sickbay and stopped. Crewmen were crowded outside the doors, which weren't opening for some reason. Archer sighed, feeling T'Pol brush against him as she came around the corner. She stopped; surprised to find so many crewmen in the hall.

"Aren't you people supposed to be somewhere other than outside of Sickbay?" Archer asked.

They turned to him, bombarding him with questions: "Is it true they're angels?" "Do they fly?" "What were they doing on a starship?" "Were they coming back to Earth?"

Archer held up his hands, quieting them.

"They are aliens. Beyond that, we know nothing more about them. What I do know is that all of you have duties that don't include gathering around Sickbay. If you don't disperse immediately and return to your duties, you will be reprimanded."

The crowd began dispersing, making way for Archer and T'Pol to enter Sickbay.

#

The alien was on the scanner bed and Phlox stood beside it, reviewing data on a PADD. He looked back when the two entered.

"Did you ask the crewmen to leave?" He motioned at the door. "I had to disable the doors to keep them out."

"Yes. How is he? It is a he, correct?"

"Yes, and I don't know how he is."

"He's been here for six hours."

"I can't make heads or tales of his physiology. None of his organs are where I expect them to be, and an organ I think is for one thing, turns out to be for something else. Commander Tucker mentioned there were deceased on the ship."

"When was he here?"

"He's been here every hour since the alien was brought in, checking on him. He is strangely concerned about the being."

T'Pol walked over to the bed, studying the alien's face.

Archer shook his head. "This is turning into a circus."

"The crew are calling him an angel, but I haven't been able to find any medical files on the species. Could you contact Starfleet med--" Phlox asked.

"Angels are mythical beings and most human religions have them in one form or another. This," Archer pointed at the alien, "is a new species and we don't have medical records on it."

"Then why have the crew been calling him an angel?"

"Because he looks like one."

"But you just said angels were mythical beings."

"They _are_!" Archer's frustration slipped out in his tone.

Phlox recoiled.

"I'm sorry, Doctor. I'll have a corpse transported over so you can do a dissection. That's why you asked, isn't it?"

"Yes."

Archer joined T'Pol, watching her turn to him.

"I have seen this species," T'Pol told him

"Where?"

"In several historical documents."

Archer frowned at her. "Please tell me they weren't religious documents."

"No. Historical economical documents."

"Economical?"

"The Sar'fenn traded--"

"You mean Seraphim?"

"No. Sar'_fenn_."

"The two names sound similar. What about the documents?"

"The Sar'fenn traded with Vulcans for nearly two hundred years. Then one day we were informed that they wouldn't be returning. They had been ordered by their Monarch to watch over an alien race in a nearby system but something had happened and their Monarch ordered them not to return to this area. We never saw them again."

"Contact the High Command and have them send as much data as they can dig up on the Sar'fenn. Their language would be beneficial for Hoshi."

T'Pol left to obey.

"Phlox, I don't want any crewmen visiting this alien for the time being."

"Captain?"

"They're getting confused between myth and reality. No one is to visit him until I say otherwise."

"Yes, Captain."

Archer walked out of Sickbay. There was a small, nagging, irrational voice that was beginning to question the myth and reality in himself. He was determined to ignore it.

#

"They were Orion ships."

Archer came out of his trance, looking across the table at T'Pol. She sat on his right hand side, watching him. Trip sat on his left, poking at his food.

"I'm sorry?"

"The debris is from three Orion war ships. Ensign Sato was able to find their recorders. We still don't know what happened, though. The recorders were heavily damaged and she doesn't know if she will ever find out what happened in the last minutes."

"Orion war ships are heavily armed. Did you detect equal or greater armament on the Sar'fenn's ship?"

"No. They were no better armed than we are, Captain."

"Must have been pretty cunning to outwit and destroy three Orion ships."

"Or blessed," Trip told his steak.

Archer sat his fork down, turning to him. "You and I need to talk about this. I've heard you've been supporting the crewman's belief that this Sar'fenn is an angel. You need to stop."

Trip glared at him.

Archer looked at his plate. "Why can't you see the difference, Trip? These aliens aren't myths. They're real."

"Why can't you accept that they my be the truth behind the myths?"

Archer took a drink.

"Or maybe..." Trip trailed off.

Archer lowered his glass, looking at Trip. Trip's eyes narrowed.

Archer sensed a fight brewing. He should just change the subject, but his stubbornness got the better of him. "Or maybe what?"

"Or maybe that would mean you'd have to believe in God."

"Enough!" Archer slammed his glass on the table. Iced tea splashed out, but he didn't notice.

Trip shook his head, looking at his meal. He stood, again glaring at Archer.

"Good night." Trip walked out.

Archer looked down, regretting ever telling Trip about why he'd lost his faith. He never anticipated the conversation would come back like this.

"May I ask--" T'Pol began.

"No. It's not open for discussion."

"Then you haven't reviewed the documents that the High Command sent us?"

Archer looked at her. "I'm sorry, T'Pol. No. I haven't had a chance."

"It is intriguing. They apparently have, or had, several spices highly valued in dozens of solar systems. Vulcans themselves don't care for the spices, but the high trade value was enough that a commodity house was built specifically for its trade. It had a drastic impact on our economy when they left."

Archer smiled. "I'll be sure to read it tomorrow if I get the chance."

"Of course."

The two resumed eating, T'Pol watching him.

"It is unlike you and Commander Tucker to argue like this, Captain."

"Leave it alone, T'Pol."

She drank a sip of water, still watching. Archer looked up at her.

"It's a touchy subject between he and I," he explained. "It has been since we met."

"On a day that you feel comfortable, Captain, perhaps you could explain it to me," T'Pol said.

"One day I probably will."

She nodded once and they resumed eating in silence.

#

Phlox heard movement behind him and turned. The Sar'fenn was trying to get up. Phlox sat the samples in his hand down and rushed over to stop the alien. The alien looked up at him, staring intently.

"You need to relax," Phlox said.

The Sar'fenn's eyes narrowed a little.

Phlox laid his hand on the Sar'fenn's chest and it felt like electricity was running up his arm. The Sar'fenn smiled. It was open, honest, and beautiful. He caught Phlox's wrist as he pulled his hand back, and pushed Phlox's hand against his chest. The feeling returned, but it became warm and relaxing. The alien released his hand, but the feeling stayed with Phlox, and he found himself wishing it would never fade.

"Once we get around this language barrier, you'll have to tell me more about how you do that," Phlox told him.

"Language." The Sar'fenn motioned Phlox to keep talking.

"All right. I'm Doctor Phlox. You're aboard Enterprise, and--"

"I hear and understand." The Sar'fenn smiled again. "What is your name?"

"Phlox. And you are?"

"I am Kahla."

"You speak English?"

"We're acutely telepathic and learn languages by accessing memories. It is both a curse and a blessing. I can assure you that trying to keep a child from knowing about a surprise birthday party can be tricky. You must always keep your mind on something else when they are around."

Phlox laughed, surprised by the Sar'fenn's humor.

"I surprise you?" he asked Phlox.

"We don't meet many aliens that enjoy a sense of humor."

"Our Monarch tells us that humility is essential. If you cannot laugh at yourself, you are destined to extinction. And in my two hundred and thirty-six years, I've laughed a great deal at myself."

"Two hundred and thirty-six? You look very well for your age."

He smiled again. "We don't change in appearance once we have reached the age of bearing. We look this way forever, even when we meet with the Monarch."

"The Monarch is a supernatural being?"

"He is who we bless when we rise each day. I bless him for my survival now."

Phlox sobered at the mention of survival. Quietly he informed Kahla, "I don't know how much longer you'll be alive. I think you've suffered extensive injuries, and by the time I understand your physiology, it may be too late."

The Sar'fenn saddened and it tore at Phlox's heart. Again it was a surprise to him, for he had never been so touched by an alien's sorrow like this. He was certain the telepathy had a lot to do with it.

"My daughter died too. I thought she was lost when I left the kitchen. She was injured and non-responsive. I reached an escape pod and boarded. I was preparing to launch when I heard her screaming for me. I turned and saw her through the window. She was begging me to wait and I tried to open the door, but it wouldn't open. She was bleeding and died before my eyes." Kahla looked at Phlox, tilting his head. "She said the strangest thing on her dying breath. She told me, 'Our first care will save you. The Monarch asks you to rejoin them to his path and will then bring you home.' Do you think she heard the Monarch as she died?"

"Most beings, when they die, say strange things as the brain ceases to function. It's hard to tell what she heard, thought, or saw."

Kahla nodded, looking away. "I agree. How could our first care come to save me? I'm sure they have all perished by now."

"You care for other species?"

"Yes. By the order of the Monarch. The Chosen go between his world and ours, and they tell us whom we should tend to. Our ancient texts say we've ushered the growth of thousands of species. Once they have taken to the black skies, we depart, but often continue to trade with them."

"That's a great responsibility."

"Yes, but I have always been happy to be an aid in this, even if my only task is to feed my ship's crew." Kahla looked at Phlox. "I have never seen your species. What do you call yourselves?"

"Denobulans."

"You are the healer, correct?"

"Yes."

"Are there many of you on this ship?"

"This isn't a Denobulan ship. This is a human ship."

Kahla's kind face clouded with anger and it struck Phlox with breathtaking intensity. It felt like someone grabbed his heart and began squeezing. It threatened to send him to his knees. Phlox put his hand over his heart, gasping.

"How dare you!" Kahla growled with a resonating voice.

"What?"

Around Phlox the air came alive with the electricity he'd felt when he'd first placed his hand on Kahla, but this time it was a threatening promise of death. The pain caused white light to begin brightening behind Phlox's eyes, cast a glowing aura around Kahla.

"How dare you mock me!"

"I wasn't mocking you!"

"You were using my tale of my daughter against me! With my last breath I will usher you to the beyond and the Monarch will punish you for eternity!"

Phlox swallowed hard. He stepped back, forcing himself to remain calm and reacting to the overwhelming sense of anger.

"I don't know what I said that was mocking."

"You say this is a human vessel! Humans are myths! Our first care! Our single failure!"

Dots quickly connected and Phlox smiled despite the pain in his chest.

"Myths seem to be the mainstay right now, Kahla. The humans feel the same way about you. I think your two races have more history than either of you realize."

The anger faded and the pain in Phlox's chest and the charged air vanished in an instant. The glowing aura faded from Phlox's vision. Kahla's face returned to the calm, serene expression.

"You speak the truth?" Kahla quietly asked.

"Yes."

Kahla looked confused. He turned his head, staring across the Sickbay. "I heard they look like us in form."

"They do."

Kahla nodded. He looked back at Phlox.

"Ask a human to visit me. I must see one for myself."

"My captain, Captain Archer, asked me to alert him when you were conscious."

Kahla smiled. "He is anxious to meet a myth too?"

Phlox shook his head. "No. He hasn't reacted to your appearance like the rest of the humans have. I don't believe he thinks you are the race of humanity's myth."

Kahla's smile faded. "I see."

"But he is concerned about your well-being. He did order your rescue."

"He is honorable?"

"Yes."

"Thank you for inviting him for me."

Phlox turned and walked to a companel. "Phlox to Archer."

He looked back at the Sar'fenn, wondering, '_How much of their history intersects? Perhaps he was too hasty in determining these aliens as non-mythical creatures. Perhaps the myth and reality have merged at a crossroad after all_.'

"_Go ahead_," Archer replied.

"The Sar'fenn is awake and would like to meet you."

"_I'll be there shortly_."

"Myths are often based on reality, Doctor Phlox," Kahla said.

Phlox smiled. "I see I'll have to be careful not to think anything bad of you."

Kahla smiled. Phlox couldn't see it, but he felt warmth and rejoicing wash over him.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

Archer turned the corner and resisted screaming at the crewmen to get back to work. The first few times he was able to overlook their curiosity, but this was going too far.

"People, get back to work," Archer commanded. "Now."

They scrambled to obey.

Archer strode into Sickbay, repressing his anger. Phlox met him at the door.

"There are a few things you need to know about Kahla before you speak to him," Phlox began.

"Who?"

"The alien's name is Kahla, the girl Trip brought back was his daughter, he's telepathic, and making him angry wouldn't be a wise choice."

"Did he become violent?"

"Not physically."

Archer nodded, walking around Phlox. As he approached the head of the bio-bed, the two point five meter walk felt more like two point five kilometers. Kahla opened his eyes and for a split second Archer was almost convinced Kahla was an angel. But bitter anger swept it away in one stroke. Kahla was an alien -- plain and simple.

"You're so angry. Have I offended you?" Kahla asked.

Archer's chin lifted, a subconscious response as he became defensive. "No, Kahla. To what extent are you telepathic?"

"I sense emotions, hear thoughts, and catch glimpses of a being's past and future."

"Glimpses?"

"Yes. Such as you skipped a meal again. I doubt that's a good habit even for humans, Captain Archer."

"I don't need you telling me what is good for me," Archer snapped.

Kahla turned his face away from Archer, one of his top wings snaking over his shoulder to cover his face.

"Is this what humans have become?" Kahla quietly asked from behind his shield.

Archer looked away, scolding himself, '_Stop it, Jonnie! It's not his fault for how he looks. It's not his fault that the crew is driving you insane for how he looks. Or that... That my parents died too soon. He just lost his daughter and soon his life. What right do you have to treat him like this?_'

Archer started when something velvety brushed his arm. Kahla's wing rested against his arm and he was watching Archer.

"Or is this empathy you feel for me more human?" Kahla asked.

"Both are, and I have a lot more going on that has nothing to do with you, Kahla. Humans are adept at hiding our emotions from each other. This will only work if you pretend the same."

Kahla smiled, folding his wing under him. "I understand."

"We need to talk about your ship. Why--"

"It wasn't my ship, Captain Archer. I am only a cook."

"A cook?"

Kahla nodded.

"Do you know why you were attacked?"

"All I know is what I heard from crewmen when they were in the dining hall. We were returning home and apparently picked up a distress signal from a race we were watching. We were the closest to them so we changed course. And then we were under attack."

"The closest?"

"We had three ships returning to our planet. One was far ahead of us, another behind us with engine trouble. I know that because when I took my captain his meal the day before, he was discussing this with another officer."

"So there may be another ship coming?"

"I don't know, Captain Archer. Ask me how to make bread loaves, and then I can tell you something."

Archer smiled. "How do you keep your humor in the face of death?"

"Because self-pity is frowned on by the Monarch, and I know that when I die my daughter will be at the gates to greet me."

Archer's smile faded at the remark. "What do you know about humans?"

"I thought you were myths, until today."

"_How_ do you know about humans?"

"Many life times ago the Monarch sent us to watch over humans."

"Why didn't the Sar'fenn stay with us?"

"The Monarch told us humans were becoming too violent for us to help and ordered us to return home."

"Is that truth or myth?"

Kahla's smile faded into deep reflection. "Today I believe the myths have shown themselves as truths, don't you?"

Archer suddenly felt cornered and retreated a step. "Get some rest. I'll check back on you."

"Doctor Phlox told me others visited me regularly while I was not awake and you ordered them to stop. Can you reverse your order? I want to know more about humans."

Archer didn't answer right away. '_Humor a dying man_.'

"I'm not going to die yet," Kahla said before he could speak.

"What?"

"I'm not going to die yet. I haven't heard the calling."

"The calling?"

"The calling from an ancestor."

"And how do you know there will be this calling?"

"It's in the ancient texts."

Archer smiled, stopping any thought before it entered his mind. "I hope you're right, Kahla. I'll consider your request."

Archer turned to leave.

"I'm sorry, Captain Archer."

Archer looked back at him. "What?"

"I heard your thoughts about the Monarch being responsible for your parent's departure. I know you didn't want me to listen, but I can't help it. I wish you understood that he had a reason for taking them."

Archer walked away, forcing back his anger. He wasn't going to talk about his theological issues with a complete stranger.

Archer stopped in the hall. He was confused by the building anxiety. Maybe it was because he knew he should revoke the visitation restriction and let Kahla have visitors before he died. Who wanted to die alone? And since Trip seemed to be impacted most by Kahla, he decided to tell him first. Archer walked to a companel, tapping it.

"Archer to Trip."

Archer waited. And waited...

#

Archer walked into the loading bay, looking for Trip. Internal sensors said his bio-sign was supposed to be here. There was no one in the loading bay. Had he missed him? Archer turned to leave but stopped. He looked up and saw a pair of legs hanging out of the darkness above. Archer walked over to an access ladder and climbed up to the catwalk. He crossed the loading bay, seeing Trip as he drew closer. Archer stopped next to him.

"Why didn't you answer me?" Archer asked.

Trip turned his head, staring at the wall. Archer sat down next to him, hanging his legs over the catwalk.

"You can visit Kahla."

"Who?"

"The alien. He wants to talk with humans. Apparently his race had contact with humans a long time ago and he thought we were myths."

Trip stood, staring down the catwalk. He suddenly crouched, holding Archer's gaze when he looked at him.

"And that doesn't pique your interest even a little bit?"

"What?"

"We thought his kind were myths, they thought our kind were myths. The common myth should tell you something."

"Like?"

"Maybe the rest of the Bible is true."

Archer looked away with a heavy sigh.

"Cap'n, your parents--"

"Leave my beliefs out of this," Archer growled, glaring at Trip. "I never should have told you about that."

"Maybe there was a reason we came across them. Did you stop to think about that? Maybe we needed to be shocked in order to see His path again."

"Maybe you should leave before I change my mind."

"Cap'n, you can't blame God for losing your parents."

"My mother and father believed in God. They believed with all their heart. My mom died of breast cancer when I was seven. My dad had a heart attack when I was twenty-three. I wasn't ready to lose either of them, Trip! Somebody has to take the blame."

Trip didn't speak for several long minutes. He stood and headed down the catwalk. Archer rested his chin on the middle bar, staring at the floor. He heard Trip stop.

"Cap'n, just know that even when you turn your back on Him, He never turns his on you."

Archer didn't reply. Trip walked to the ladder and climbed down.

He was halfway across the bay when Archer asked, "Ever?"

Trip stopped, looking in his general direction. "He hasn't yet, has he? How else do you explain your escapes from prisons, alien attacks, a Klingon labor mine or coming back from jumps through time? He won't turn his back on you."

Archer didn't respond. Allowing himself to explore what Trip was saying, or holding on to anger that he'd known for so many years, tore at him.

He watched Trip leave, waging his struggle in solitude.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

Archer entered Sickbay and stopped. He was surprised to find Chaplain Frank Kingswell standing next to the alien's bed. Due to Starfleet policy, a Chaplain had to be assigned to _Enterprise_ and he was the only crewman that Archer let Admiral Forrest choose. Archer suspected that the policy had something to do with morale, a little to do with allowing officers to practice their religion, a lot to do with saying a prayer for crewmen who lay dying in Sickbay.

And now Chaplain Kingswell, who was probably the oldest human aboard _Enterprise_, was chatting with Kahla. The cross pinned above his Lieutenant pips sparkled in the light, holding Archer's attention. It was the only thing different on Kingswell's uniform. Phlox walked up to Archer and he turned his attention away.

"He asked if we had a crewman on board who could help him exercise rights of passing," Phlox explained. "So Trip suggested I ask Chaplain Kingswell to assist him."

"That's what our Chaplain is here for. You called me down here to tell me you can't save him, didn't you?"

"No. It took too long for me to understand his physiology. I'm sorry, Captain."

Archer nodded, turning to go. He stopped, feeling a strange warmth sweep over him. He looked at Kahla. The alien was watching him, his brilliant eyes unblinking. Archer quickly left.

#

Archer drifted out of sleep, staring at the ceiling.

"Computer, time," Archer commanded.

"The time is oh-three hundred and twenty-three hours."

What was it that woke him? A sound? Porthos snoring? He held his breath, listening, but there was no sound.

Archer closed his eyes, but he couldn't go back to sleep. His mind began mulling over the last three days of strange events and the dying alien in Sickbay. Where was the ship he said was right behind? Archer rolled onto his side, staring out at space. His companel beeped and he reached up, tapping the talk button.

"Go ahead."

"_I'm sorry to wake you, Captain_," Phlox started.

Archer closed his eyes. "He's gone, isn't he?"

"_Yes. He passed away at oh four hundred and twenty-two hours_."

Archer's mind slipped away to the strange course of events: the exact time he'd woken up, the way Kahla knew all the right questions to ask Archer for only being a cook.

"_Captain_?" Phlox said.

Archer came back to the present. "I'll be there in a while."

Archer tapped the companel again, but didn't get up. He felt comfortable and at peace, despite the news. Archer slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep he hadn't had since his mother had died.

#

Archer walked up to the door and hesitated. He reached out to touch the controls and then drew back. He turned to leave as the door opened.

"Good evening, Captain," Chaplain Kingswell's cheerful voice greeted him.

Archer froze in mid-step. He turned back with a smile.

"Chaplain," Archer said.

"Don't see you much on this end of the ship."

Archer quickly searched for an excuse for why he had ventured down to F deck. "How has the crew been handling Kahla dying?"

"Isn't that really a question for Phlox?"

"With the Sar'fenn's appearance, I assumed they spoke more to you than Phlox about it."

Kingswell smiled, nodding. "Perceptive as always, Captain. Many are taking it hard. They saw an angel and it was hard for them to watch slip him away."

"Do you think he was an angel?"

Kingswell shrugged. "God weaves a tapestry we don't always see until the very end."

'_His tapestry never has explained why I had to lose my parents so soon_.' Archer nodded, more to his own thoughts.

"Captain, you didn't come down here to talk to me about Kahla or the Sar'fenn, did you?"

Archer looked up at the Chaplain and his silence seemed to be a flag to Kingswell.

"Well, if you ever want to talk about it, you know where to find me. Have a good evening, Captain Archer."

Kingswell walked around Archer. Archer stared at the empty space before him, torn again by anger and forgiveness.

"Was that alien an angel?" Archer quietly asked. "I have to know."

Kingswell's footsteps stopped.

"What is your definition of an angel, Captain? A being that is the physical depiction of an artist rendition or a writer's version? Or a being whose presence touches lives? We've been through hard times, and I haven't seen morale this high since _Enterprise_ launched. His words and unconditional love for humans did lead many to worship today. Is that an angel? Helping spread His word and love, renewing hope? What is your definition of an angel, Captain Archer?"

Archer turned his head as he closed his eyes. He heard Kingswell come back and sensed him standing beside him.

"What did Kahla of the Sar'fenn stir in you, Captain?"

Archer opened his eyes. "I miss my parents."

"Would you like to talk about them?" Kingswell asked. It was a kind offer from a kind man, full of sincerity.

Archer nodded.

Kingswell walked back to the chapel door and tapped the controls. As the two men entered, Archer realized he was preparing to return to a faith he'd abandoned long ago. All because of Kahla of the Sar'fenn, a cook that carried his Monarch's love for humans, asked all the right questions.


End file.
